


A Helping Hand

by 1lostone



Series: Lost's Rickyl Bingo Prompt Fills! [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Coming Untouched, Exhibitionism, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, coming without being touched, i blame jlm for everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 19:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8635468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: It's PWP, with absolutely no redeeming literary value whatsoever.This series fills various spaces on my Rickyl Bingo Card. :) That title is the cheesiest thing ever. Each fic in the series will cover a prompted fill space. Each chapter is a complete story, and can be read as a standalone.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jlm121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlm121/gifts), [MaroonCamaro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaroonCamaro/gifts), [TWDObsessive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/gifts).



> For this one, I took suggestions from jlm121, Marooncamaro, Twdobsessive, Bennyhatter, CB, Stormfrost, Justley, and Highermagic for kink squares to fill! Mind the tags. :)

The entire ride back to Alexandria was quiet. 

Rick didn’t yell. He didn’t swear, or grumble under his breath. He didn’t even cry. But he was almost preternaturally still; a statue of tension and anger that reminded Daryl of a coiled spring- building and building strength until it collapsed.

Daryl felt a little nervous as he stole another glance at Rick’s profile out of the corner of his eye before looking back out the passenger-side window. Which was stupid given that it was pitch black. The only light was the faint light from the truck’s console and the muted light the moonlit night sky outside. Daryl brought his pinkie up to his mouth and bit nervously at the cuticle, his heartrate increasing disproportionately given the stillness of the man next to him. He could barely see Rick’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

It took him two tries to speak. “Rick...”

“Shut. Up.”

There was a snort from the back of the truck. Michonne or Sasha- Daryl couldn’t tell which. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, feeling like a kid who’d fucked up in front of the class.

Rick’s low growl shouldn’t have made the blood pool low in Daryl’s body, but it did. He tried not to blink in shock down at his lap, at the way his cock had started to fill with blood. Fuck. He couldn’t even _remember_ the last time he’d been hard. Outside of Atlanta? The early days of the prison maybe?

They were almost back to Alexandria after finishing up the run to DC. They didn’t often go out that far, but the food situation had gotten dire enough that they had to go further and further out.  Daryl had thought that the two women in the backseat were almost asleep, until one of them had snorted.

Rick slowed down and turned, ostensibly turning on the blinker even though he had no headlights.  Headlights drew attention, and with a truck as crammed full of supplies as this one, it was dangerous.

They didn’t want a repeat of the Jesus situation, hence the four of them on this run.

In the reflection of the glass, Daryl saw Rick’s hand move as though it were happening in slow motion. The hand moved slowly, drifting off the turning signal, down by the console. It paused for a moment, before moving down a little further, brushing deliberately over Daryl’s thigh.  

Daryl caught his breath. His heart gave a funny, shivery thud in his chest.

The backseat of the truck was split from the front seat by two tall buckets seats and a console divider. Rick had flipped up the divider when he sat down to give himself plenty of room for the bottled water he’d taken with him. It was the tall kind and barely fit in the drink holder. Rick’s little finger brushed against it as he pressed deliberately on Daryl’s thigh, and Daryl felt the muscle underneath it jump and quiver at the unexpected touch.

He didn’t _think_ anyone from the back could see what Rick was doing.  Not with the almost total darkness of the night and bare glow of the console lights.

Rick lifted his hand and moved it even more slowly so that it was resting in the air over Daryl’s dick.

Daryl almost swallowed his tongue.

Rick wasn’t touching him, although there had to be a bare inch of space between the curve of Rick’s palm and the bulge of Daryl’s cock, which almost seemed to throb up towards Rick’s hand.

Daryl wasn’t entirely certain that he wasn’t dreaming. He and Rick... they weren’t like this. Fuck. He didn’t even know what _this_ was- only that he’d fucked up on the run, and Rick was furious at him, and he was _so fucking hard_ and Rick was waiting, asking permission to do... to do....

... something.

Daryl swallowed hard, closing his eyes. In the reflection from the mirror, he could see that Rick’s attention was still on the road in front of him. Rick hadn’t looked over at Daryl, hadn’t acknowledged him in any way.

Faintly, Daryl could see that Rick’s hand was trembling.

Biting his lip, Daryl reached out and pressed Rick’s palm to the khaki-covered heat of his throbbing, desperate cock.  

Rick jumped a little in his seat, jerking away his hand from under the press of Daryl’s hand. He scratched his eyebrow, then grabbed the water and took a sip, before putting it back in the drink holder; a study in casual.

Daryl froze, part in horror, part in pure, crippling _humiliation_ when Rick had jerked his hand away. He felt his cheeks flame so hard and so deeply that he was amazed that his dick didn’t wilt from lack of bloodflow. He stared down at his dick in dismay. Rick moved his hand again, pressing the palm against the curve of Daryl’s cock. He didn’t fuck around, cupping the length and teasing it with his fingers.

Daryl made a low, punched out sound that he tried to turn into a cough. He wasn’t sure how successful he was. He was too embarrassed to look at Rick, or at Rick’s fingers that kept stroking and twitching over him. Under this touch, Daryl grew even harder until he began to feel light-headed.

When Rick stopped touching him to casually tap out some percussion line on the steering wheel, Daryl was finally able to catch his breath. He realized that he had been so focused on the prior-to-this- _highly_ improbable event of _Rick Grimes_ giving him a handjob that he’d slouched down in his seat.

He heard a murmur from the backseat and shot up so quickly he  probably looked like he’d been goosed. Daryl tried to grasp a glimpse of the two women in the backseat, but the clouds had sifted over the moon or something because he couldn’t see anything.

Rick’s hand moved back and tapped once at his belt.

Daryl, still feeling like this was happening to someone else, slowly undid his belt. They’d all gotten thinner in the past few weeks, so there was more leather than normal to slide through the belt buckle, and it felt like an hour before it was free.  Rick’s fingers tapped on the button of his khakis, and Daryl obediently unbuckled them with shaking fingers.  When Rick paused before tapping Daryl’s zipper, Daryl knew that the other man was once again asking permission.

Daryl unzipped with fingers that shook. The head of his cock was wet, and it was pushing uncomfortably against the back of the zipper. It felt good to make some space. Feeling highly emboldened, Daryl shifted so that his cock sort of fell out, balls still nestled by the vee of the opening of his khakis.

He heard Rick huff a small, shocked breath, and Daryl felt much more confident.  He’d never thought his dick was all that much to look at. Maybe a bit thicker than the few he’d seen, and ‘more ‘n a handful’ as his last fuck had drunkenly confirmed, but the way it jutted proudly out, curving towards his stomach wasn't anything to be ashamed of. He was so turned on that most of his foreskin had retracted, the head peeking out, steadily dripping precome.

He’d always gotten really wet. Especially if it had been a damn long time since he’d come.

Daryl planted his feet on the floorboard of the truck and started stroking himself, slowly, knowing that Rick was watching him and wanting to get a little of his own back.

The darkness of the night pressed around him, almost palpable.  His hand was dry, but quickly becoming slick, and Daryl was faintly embarrassed at the sharp scent of his arousal rose in the small confines of the vehicle.  His mind screamed at him; all Sasha or Michonne had to do was pop their head over the back of the seat with a question, and there’d be _no way of hiding._

It was wrong. It was dirty, and weird, and holy shit Daryl was about two minutes from coming _right_ _there_.

Rick put down the windows, the _errrrrrrrr_ whirr making Daryl jump a little in his seat.

Rick covered the head of his cock with his hand, boldly knocking aside Daryl’s own fingers as he enveloped the sensitive flesh with fingers that were wet. Daryl felt his balls tighten as he realized that Rick must have _licked his own fingers_ to make sure the handjob wasn’t too dry, before stroking over the head of Daryl’s dick. His grip was tighter, and sure, and holy fuck, t _his couldn’t be happening._

Daryl wasn’t proud, but he couldn’t hold back. It only took five strokes, maybe six, before he was coming hard, biting his lip against crying out at pulse after pulse of come hit Rick’s hand and slid down over their entangled fingers.  The wind from the open windows might have covered the small grunt, but Daryl couldn’t swear to it.

The truck lurched forward, engine gunning once before Rick hastily wiped his wet hand on his own jeans and gripped the wheel with the same white-knuckled grip from before.  Daryl, blissed out from the intensity of his orgasm, blinked open scrunched-up eyes and looked over towards Rick, who had a deathgrip on the steering wheel and was staring out of the windshield like a herd of walkers had just parachuted from the sky.  Daryl could see the small sheen of sweat on Rick’s forehead.

There was a small bit of his come on one of Rick’s knuckles.

His heartbeat slowed, and belatedly, Daryl put away his still wet-dick. He had come so much that even the breeze from the open window had not dried him off completely. He fumbled a little, not nearly as smooth as Rick when he reached slowly across the console to rest his hand on Rick's stomach. He splayed his fingers, pressing lightly, feeling the muscles jump under his hand.  Slowly, Daryl moved his hand down over Rick's crotch, only to freeze in shock.  

The hiccup of the smooth ride on the empty stretch of road, the deathgrip on the steering wheel, the sweat on Rick's face all made sense.

_Rick had come without being touched!_

Rick snorted a laugh and patted Daryl's hand once before pinching the top of his own nose, between his eyes. Daryl moved his hand back to his side of the car, and let the wind from the open window cool his furiously blushing face.  Rick's laugh turned into a rueful chuckle, then a deep belly laugh.

"Hey. You gonna share the joke?" Sasha's sleepy voice sounded more irked at being woken up than like she really gave a fuck what Rick was laughing about. 

At _that_ Daryl began to realize what Rick was laughing at. Nervousness, the sheer ballsiness of what they had just done, all of it had kind of clumped together in a laugh that felt almost as good as the orgasm had.  

Daryl snorted a laugh and waved his hand at Rick, in a  _you take this one_ sort of gesture. Rick just shook his head, almost hooting now. Oddly enough, it reminded Daryl of that movie with the nerds.  Rick turned again, and slowed the truck down further. 

And, boy. Wasn't  _that_ a weird thought given the circumstances? 

"Nah. We're here. Gotta get this stuff unloaded, and I think I'm gonna try to catch a few Zzzs. I'm... tired all of the sudden." The gate sentry waved at them when Rick pulled up, flicking the headlights. They used to just toot the horn, but quickly realized that would be like ringing the dinner bell for any walkers in the area. 

Sasha slid out of the door and yawned, waving a hello to Abraham. Michonne waited until she was out of earshot before lightly resting her hands on both Daryl and Rick's shoulders. 

"Oh? Because you look pretty well-relaxed to me." 

Daryl's eyes bugged out when Michonne tossed him a handkerchief. "And next time? Ya'll  _really_ need to remember the side mirrors." Michonne leaned forward and kissed first Daryl on the cheek, then Rick, and slid out of the back seat.

Daryl had frozen in place and saw that he wasn't the only one. Rick's eyes were so wide Daryl could only see the white in the semi-darkness from the unloading station there at Alexandria. 

Daryl licked his lips a little nervously. 

Rick watched him, eyes hooded and intense as he got over his shock. Daryl watched as he reached out and grasped Daryl's chin lightly with his fingers. Daryl could smell his own come, and felt his cock give a twitch of interest as Rick leaned forward, kissing him once, hard on the lips. It was surprisingly sweet for all that Daryl just sat there like a shocked stump, still processing the fact that _Michonne_  of all people knew what his dick looked like. 

Rick brushed the side of Daryl's face once before sliding out of the truck, dealing with the many tasks that always seemed to fall to him once they came back from a run. It took Daryl a second, but he too got out of the truck, unable to stop the incredibly goofy looking grin on his face. Rick caught his gaze and raised both of his eyebrows: a question. 

Daryl nodded once, and took off towards their house, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder.  

A shower sounded awfully damn good right about now. 

 

 


End file.
